


all we had were fragments

by honeysnaps



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-06 08:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysnaps/pseuds/honeysnaps
Summary: He remembered hazel and white light, snow falling on the streets and mittened hands in jacket pockets. He could not remember the feeling of snow on his skin but recalled the taste of peppermint and chocolate on chapped lips. He remembered the heat of shared blankets and bare skin but forgot snow cold wet clothes that peeled off of frosty skin and tumbled in the dryer on low. He thought back to unwavering moments of faith, to art in human forms and a paintbrush that swiped across a canvas and made the city come alive though there was only a brick wall for a view. Calum could have written novels in black ink on ivory winter skin of how the city made him feel, he could have written poems on the person that made him fall in love, but he had made himself forget who that was. And in the meantime, he was sure that person would not be the same after all these years.Calum goes back to the city that still feels like home. Back to the person that made him fall in love. Back to Boston. Back to Ashton.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Update: Today (September 6, 2018) I found this fic posted on someone else’s wattpad account. The person who stole this word for word is claiming it as theirs. I would like to remind everyone and anyone that plagiarism isn’t cool and if I catch you stealing from me, I WILL report you. And also ask those of you who are just dope readers that if you see someone posting my work elsewhere please please please let me know and or report them. I’m truly gutted over what’s happened today and would like to be aware if it happens again. And for now I’m going to be restricting all of my fics to only registered users. I’m not sure if the thief had an ao3 account or not, but this feels more secure.  
> With that being said... I do not grant anyone permission to repost this work in any form, translations included.  
> —El<3

Rolling hills of the countryside became nothing but green tinted blurs to Calum as the train picked up speed. He rocked back and forth in his seat unsurely, letting the motion of the train guide his body. Though the train roared on at faster speeds than Calum was used to he felt like he was in slow motion. He let his eyes slip shut, bursting colors of faded light danced behind closed eyelids. He could almost picture the city he had only been to once before. He had been much younger then, barely eighteen and in search of something bigger than backyard bonfires and sipping whiskey out of dented flasks. Now, as a grown man with much more of the world figured out, he felt the need to return to the city he fell in love with once upon a time. There were memories that had slipped away from him but there were others that were as vivid as day permanently etched into his mind and plastered on his heart.

He remembered hazel and white light, snow falling on the streets and mittened hands in jacket pockets. He could not remember the feeling of snow on his skin but recalled the taste of peppermint and chocolate on chapped lips. He remembered the heat of shared blankets and bare skin but forgot snow cold wet clothes that peeled off of frosty skin and tumbled in the dryer on low. He thought back to unwavering moments of faith, to art in human forms and a paintbrush that swiped across a canvas and made the city come alive though there was only a brick wall for a view. Calum could have written novels in black ink on ivory winter skin of how the city made him feel, he could have written poems on the person that made him fall in love, but he had made himself forget who that was. And in the meantime, he was sure that person would not be the same after all these years.

With eyes still closed and only the rumbling engine of the train sounding around him, Calum let his fingers wander, tracing patterns of snowflakes into his jeans, letting the memory of them dissolving on his tongue almost cool his mouth. He swallowed harshly, eyelashes fluttering against sleepless gray painted under his chocolate eyes. It had taken him months to work up the courage to purchase a train ticket to take him back to his adolescence. He had almost turned around on the platform that was one step away from his return. But then he remembered a jacketed back and an ignorant blissful goodbye, and he had sucked in air and swallowed his pride and left an imprinted first step onto the train.

He chose a seat near the back, one where the doors were mostly out of sight and out of mind. He had already boarded and tucked his luggage away, there was no turning back. A temporary high had settled upon him when the train first picked up speed, doubts fleeting and his body sinking into his seat but weightless all the same. As time wore on and the grass became littered with fallen leaves and a southern autumn turned to a northern winter Calum become anxious. It was as if he could almost feel every miniscule cell in his body vibrate back to life and then freeze over like the frosted barriers he had once gripped for balance. In that moment, he could almost feel a hand on the small of his back holding him upright, his posture straightening at the memory.

The train rolled to a stop, the final destination reached. Boston. Calum stood up slowly, taking time to stretch his limbs and gather his things, letting the crowd of passengers empty out before he headed towards the doors. The ride had been mostly quiet, save for a few cries of a toddler and murmured words of other passengers. As he neared the doors his small world faded and the city came to life. The train station was full and lively, not unlike how Calum remembered it from so long ago. He had been young and scared in the thick of the crowd, jostled about by people who knew where they were headed when he did not know which step would take him in the right direction. Now, Calum was filled with certainty and each of his steps were purposeful. He knew where he was headed.

Though the temperature was low and Calum was not quite used to the chill in the air he did not mind that biting feeling of the wind on his skin. He had packed jackets and boots, mittens and hats, but boarded the train in a t-shirt and jeans. His luggage was light, one rolling suitcase and a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. He was not sure how long he planned to stay in the city, if he would outlast the northern winter on his own, so he decided to play it day by day. Night had crawled into the sky by the time Calum was on the streets, glows of streetlamps and the moon spilling onto the sidewalk he travelled lighting a path.

The apartment building he had chosen was not far off from where he stayed previously, a couple blocks and a corner away. He knew his arrival would be late in the evening so he had the key to his apartment mailed to him before he left, he fumbled for it within the confines of his duffel bag. He knew he had zipped it away in an inner compartment for safe keeping. Rigid metal made contact with his fingers and the anticipation of home settled into his bones. He tromped up the stone steps, scraping his shoes against them to eliminate some of the murk that had accumulated from the streets. The city was between autumn and winter, a lonely and ominously gray feeling hanging in the transitional air. The trees were bare, no leaves or frost covered them. The ground was hard, frozen but not icy.

Calum had to ascend a few levels of staircases to reach his floor and he remembered chasing up wooden steps and laughter tumbling from kissed lips. Calum was breathless by the time he reached his floor but he was not entirely convinced it was from the luggage he had carted up or the seemingly endless amount of narrow steps. He came upon his paint chipped wooden door, 404 staring back at him in golden metal. He entered as quietly as he could, only jostling the key about a couple times before he heard the metallic click that turned the doorknob.

His apartment was minimal, bare necessities crowded into a small space. It was all Calum would need—a kitchen, a bathroom and a living room that doubled as the bedroom stared at him in under five hundred square feet. The space was different from what he shared with roommates so long ago, back then it had been exciting and inviting, an endless amount of opportunities and alcohol ridden air beckoning to him. Now, it was just him and the sounds of a city that never took a break. Calum let those sounds guide him towards the bed that pulled down from the wall, let the noise settle into his new home and be a welcome guest. It was a far cry away from crickets and frogs that usually lulled him into sleep.

He fell into the creaky mattress haphazardly, hardly bothering to remove his clothes or drape himself in blankets. It felt like a familiar stranger. Time had worn some of his memories thin, but it felt right to be back. City nights had kept Calum on his toes and only when the sun was beginning to rise would he fall into bed still clothed. Exhaustion contended with Calum all day and now that there was something even remotely soft beneath him, it was winning out. He fell asleep with his cheek pressed to the mattress when a pillow was right beside him and when he woke in the morning he remembered the sight of the sun on another, highlighting cheekbones that looked like art chiseled into marble.

**< < >>**

Sunlight spilled into Calum’s tiny kitchen as he stood over the stove and hummed a familiar tune, one that echoed around the city and weighed on his heart. He remembered the gravelly morning voice that would hum so quietly in his ear and the greedy hands that slipped around his waist and the chest pressed against his back. Currently, Calum stood alone in the kitchen and counted the spots of sunlight on the notches in the wooden floor. He mused over past days as he scrambled eggs he had gone down the street to pick up earlier that morning all bundled up in clothes he had purchased as a teenager.

His jacket was a snug fit, broader shoulders and a filled out form transforming a once loose coat into a tight hug to keep out the cold air. His boots were waterproofed and the slush that lined the streets from a slight snowfall when he was sleeping stayed off his socks underneath. Once his eggs were done and he had ripped open the package of plastic plates he also purchased he pulled a red and green blanket from his bag and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. He ate his breakfast silently, waiting, listening to the days of others below him. Thin walls and loud voices provided enough noise for Calum to drown out his own foreboding thoughts. The sounds below and around were foreign to Calum after so much time.

He was not used to the hustle and bustle and overhearing other’s intimate conversations. Back home it was lapping water and chirping birds, perhaps the neigh of a passing horse and the crunch of gravel under their feet. On those days Calum would take to his porch and wave to the rider and horse painted like a masterpiece behind a glowing sun, blue skies and green leaves. And even when he had been in the city as a teenager the noises had been drowned out by hazes of alcohol and new music that another had introduced him to. And sometimes, by a voice that was more important than anything else around him.

A knock on the door jarred Calum, the reason for his waiting complete. He stood and took the few small steps to the door, swinging it open and coming face to face with an old friend. Calum split a smile across his unkempt face, facial hair growing in and hallowed tired eyes that tried their best to be a part of the smile. Calum realized he looked worse for wear but his friend did not seem to mind.

“Good to see you, pal,” Michael said quickly and pulled Calum in for a short hug, pats on the back and steps into the small space announcing Michael’s comfortability. Michael had not waited to be invited inside and Calum supposed that was because they had shared a home at one point, that even though they were grown now they still had the mentality of what’s mine is yours and vice versa.

“It’s been way too long,” Calum commented dryly as he shifted his plate from the countertop to the garbage can. Calum heard Michael sigh dramatically behind him and the squeak of the mattress as he sat down. Calum had not made the bed, but he never really undid the sheets to begin with.

Calum turned to face Michael. “I’m not the one who disappeared into the countryside and became a hermit.”

Calum laughed, Michael was always making absurd statements, though sometimes they held an ounce of truth to them. Calum had gone back home before his first year in the city had ended, easy winters and a mending heart on the horizon as he headed south. Michael knew why Calum left, but now Calum knew he stood in wonder as to why it took him so long to come back.

“It was easier that way,” Calum amended. “This city wasn’t mine to call home.”

_Anymore._

Calum pictured a thin lipped smile that made promises of home and forever but realized sometime down the line that promises were only made to be broken. Promises were one way mirrors, reflecting back what only you could see and showing the whole picture to another. They were easily shattered by human touch. Michael shifted on the bed, Calum sensing how uneasy he had already gotten. It was not a topic either truly cared to talk about, Michael not one to harp on feelings and drag them out of people and Calum not one to open up and lean on shoulders too often.

“But you’re back now,” Michael said, once again proving to Calum that he would always stay positive. “And there’s so much more to Boston you need to see, hermit boy.”

Calum nodded, letting the new nickname roll of his shoulders. Michael never meant harm. He was only joking. With all the time that had blown by he was sure the city did not wait for him. Nothing was set in stone, least of all time, and while Calum had been away he had changed too. Boston was another new adventure now, waiting for him with the same arms wide open invitation as it had before. There were places in the city he had never seen, there was new history to be learned, but Calum was not so sure he wanted to venture past a love he had already known. Calum bit his lip, a prick of pain on the chapped skin having him release his hold suddenly. Peppermint and chocolate.

“You know, there is one thing that I’d like to do again,” Calum murmured, now tracing a lone finger along the stains on the countertop, his blanket starting to fall from off his shoulders. He shrugged it back up and pulled it tight around him.

“Anything you want, buddy.”

Michael’s words had prompted Calum into motion, pulling on his shirt, boots and jacket and clambering down the stairs in a hurry, Michael never flinching at Calum’s hurried actions. Once outside Calum realized the cold had gotten colder and the sun that once was so proudly overhead had become shadowed off by gray clouds. Gray slush on the streets. Gray sky. But Calum did not let those things discolor his mood. He and Michael walked the streets and passed by many people, Calum doing his best to just blend in with the crowd. He almost felt out of place as they came upon the outdoor ice rink that was not quite in season yet. With only barriers around cement it was not as magical as Calum had first seen it.

Then again, he supposed it was not the location that had made an impact, but the person he had met who wore blades of silver like they were forged from the finest gold. This person was the one who made Calum enamored with the city, this person was the one that made Calum fall in love. They came upon the white and green barriers that used to seem so significant to a still growing Calum but presently they were just measly obstacles. Calum tapped his hands on the top of the barrier, remembering a steady hand and hot cocoa that warmed his body and soul.

They stood there for a while, neither of them saying a word because there were no words that needed to be said. Calum was glad to be there and Michael was glad to accompany him, but after enough time had passed for the clouds to break away from the sun Michael announced he would need to be leaving soon. Calum understood, he had a life to get back to and the silence around them was doing little in helping them catch up. Calum waved Michael goodbye and strode over to a bench, one with a familiar groove that he settled into. He recalled that there had been white twinkling lights strung around this bench in what felt like another lifetime. They were rich with the promise of the holidays and cheer.

Calum kept a steady gaze on the ground, a dusting of snow had fallen from the sky, the weather unsure of itself. Mother Nature was indecisive at times, especially in the heart of New England. The powdery snow melted soon after the flakes started falling and Calum shifted his feet, the wet ground pliable beneath. Calum was not sure how long he sat there before another pair of boots came into his line of vision. And stayed there.

Whoever it was had blocked the sun from reaching Calum on his new perch. Almost unwillingly Calum looked up, eyes squinted past the rays that worked their way around the person’s figure and into his face. Calum took a deep breath past a hazel gaze.  

<< >>

“Wait up you guys!” Calum had shrilly screamed at his friends that were so willing to leave his floundering form in the dust. Calum had never ice skated before, he had hardly ever even seen frost before heading north. He was used to mildly cold winters that would warrant only a sweatshirt or at the very most a light coat. His golden skin was frigidly cold in the northern air, the wardrobe he had packed for his venture not very well equipped.

“Just- just- catch us when we come around again,” Michael called back, the only of the group to acknowledge Calum’s struggle.

Calum frowned, deep set and eyes blinking slowly. He gripped the cold barrier—a gloveless hand feeling the bite of the ice and his body immediately recoiling. His left foot slipped back, heel losing all balance and body swaying backwards. He braced himself for the impact of the ice on his backside but instead felt a hand positioning him upwards almost effortlessly.

“Easy there, balance isn’t so hard if you just trust your brain to work with your feet,” a foreign voice instructed. “Just take it one glide at a time.”

Calum could not peel his eyes off of his own feet to take a look at the stranger, he just followed the instruction and glided one foot in front of the other as smoothly as possible. It was not as easy as he hoped, but he did find a form of balance after a few more strides along the ice.

“There you go, you got it. And it will be even easier if you watch in front of yourself—not below yourself.”

Calum finally looked up, braving the uncertainty of not watching his feet. Directly by his side was a man not much older than he. The man skated around to be in front of Calum, easy motions that looked effortless. Calum could see curls tucked under a winter hat, an appropriate winter jacket secured around him and gloves to match. Hazel eyes wore concern openly as they were all over Calum as the man skated backwards, never once looking behind. Feeling the cold and wet catch up to his freezing palm Calum pulled his hand up and blew on it for warmth, rubbing his hands together, the friction helping.

“No gloves?”

“Didn’t think of them,” Calum admitted sheepishly and since balance was found he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I know a remedy to cold hands.”

Calum looked over and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Hot cocoa, I was just about to go get one. You should come with me, it’ll warm you up from the inside out.”

Calum did not hesitate to follow the stranger off the ice and over to the vendor’s line. As they waited in line small talk filled the air. Introductions began with Calum offering his name and the stranger promptly following.

“I’m Calum, I just moved here barely a week ago. I’m still kind of getting used to this whole winter thing.”

“It’ll take some adjusting, I’m going to be honest,” the other began his reply. “By the way my name is-“

**< < >>**

“Ashton,” Calum breathed out in complete and utter shock.

 “The one and only,” Ashton said, a smile that did not hold the weight of the past gracing his face. He took a seat beside Calum, as if still wrapped up in old times. “I heard a rumor you were back in the city.”

Calum blinked slowly and internally cursed out Michael, he was almost certain this was of his doing. The truth was, on the surface Calum was not sure why he had come back. Ashton had always been a shadow of a thought in his mind. He was a shadow that belonged in the corner of Boston, around every bend and dip and curve of the sidewalks. He lurked on the ice and was the casted golden shadows from twinkling lights. Rationally, Calum knew somewhere deep down, Ashton was _the_ reason he came back. Without Ashton, Calum would not have loved the city so much. But, he was not ready to admit that to himself, let alone Ashton.

“You heard correct,” Calum finally mumbled out in affirmation—as if it was needed.

“What brought you here?”

**< < >>**

“I have some family that lives here, I mostly thought it would be a good change of pace for me before I commit myself to four years of school. Plus, I’ve always heard there is something magical about a white winter.”

Ashton smiled and Calum noticed dimples that were set deep and spoke of character. He saw suns of melted brown within light green eyes. “You heard right, and nothing—I mean nothing at all—beats winter in New England. Trust me, I know.”

Calum chuckled and took Ashton for his word as they approached the front of the line and placed their orders. It only took a moment for the steaming Styrofoam cups to be placed on the copper countertop. Calum had begun to reach into his pocket for spare change but Ashton quickly placed a few dollars on the counter and swept up the drinks. Calum trailed after him, money in hand as Ashton settled onto a bench and handed Calum his cup. Ashton was right—hot cocoa was a beautiful remedy to Calum’s near frozen digits. He wrapped his hands and fingers tightly around the cup and shuddered as his bones were warmed.

Not forgetting the money debacle Calum swiftly placed the dollar and change in Ashton’s hand—only having to momentarily fight him to unfurl his fingers to reveal an open palm. Ashton smirked and shook his head as he looked down at the money, Calum watching him through hooded eyes as he tentatively took sips of hot cocoa. He felt buzzed, the heat radiating through him and the rush of excitement that he had made a new friend was incomparable. Especially in a city so big and so cold.

“Other than the cold… how are you liking Boston so far?”

Calum took another sip of cocoa before answering, “You know, the cold isn’t bothering me as much anymore.” He grinned and continued. “I rather like it here. It’s not quite home, but it’s working its way into my heart.”

Calum then watched as Ashton threw his head back, all smiles and pearly white teeth that were not perfectly aligned and straight but were endearing nonetheless. Calum found he was found of a crooked smile, stories always laying beneath them. “Boston will feel like home in no time. It may seem big at first but once you know the secrets and the history, it won’t feel big enough. You’ll always want more.”

**< < >>**

“I guess—I just wanted more of the city,” Calum responded in question to what brought him back. It was not a complete lie, he had been yearning to feel the rush of excitement that city life brought. It was a polar opposite to quiet country nights and iced tea in the shade on warm autumn days.

Boston was the best of the seasons; chilly winter air and snowy Christmas mornings, bright spring days and blooming flowers, hot summertime’s and lemonade kisses, colored leaves and crisp autumn air. And though life was faster paced in Boston, Calum never missed a moment of it. It was a visceral experience, one that had sunken into his open heart and closed the door. From time to time as he sat back in his lawn chair and listened to the crackle of the bonfire he reopened that door. He never ventured too far in for fear he may not come back the same. Winter was forever embedded in his past. For a long time he was not quite sure he would ever get it back.

“More of the city,” Ashton murmured Calum’s words back to him. Calum looked over at him unsurely, there was a slight awkwardness between them but it was surprising how quickly the familiarity had settled. “You always come back to the places you love, sometimes it just takes a while.”

_The places you love. The people you love._

Calum shuffled his feet around, body needing to do something as silence descended upon them. It felt like dark heavy clouds above, ready to fall and break like glass at the first word spoken. Calum cleared his throat, hoping it might prompt Ashton to elaborate more on his last sentence but Ashton only sighed in response.

“I guess—I guess I just needed some closure,” Calum said and then backtracked, those words too open ended. They felt like stones tied to his ankles. He needed to explain. “I left in such a hurry I don’t think I got the most out of my visit. There are still places I want to go and things I want to see.”

_People I want to see again._

Calum watched across the way as a few people peeked their heads in to see the progress of the ice rink. It was half complete. Much how Calum had felt when he left. He was back, and yet, there was still something missing. Or someone. An icy breeze picked up that had Calum tugging on his jacket, merely trying to keep some of the warmth in. The people across the way laughed and ran off, trying to find refuge from the elements Calum concluded.

“So much has happened,” Ashton stated out of nowhere.

**< < >>**

“These streets are filled with history. So much has happened here you’ll fall in love with the stories and the unwavering faith of the people. The grit. The strength.”

Calum pulled one leg up onto the bench and cocked his head to the side, hot cocoa balancing precariously on his thigh. He was more than ready to listen to Ashton, his voice held contrition as he spoke on, as if not all of these stories were ones of heroes, but some of woes and hardships. Calum felt sucked into lives he did not live, but Ashton used words that painted a picture, strung together sentences Calum could only hope to remember in their rightful meanings.

“There’s not a better city in the world. We have this—this history that paints us in ways we want others to see. For every hardship there is a victory, for every battle lost is a war won. Boston doesn’t give up on us and we don’t give up on Boston. It’s always been us against the world, and I think deep down, we prefer it that way. It makes us stronger.”

Calum was lost in Ashton’s words, picturing stories that he was not sure ever happened. He could have written novels based on four sentences out of Ashton’s mouth. Calum was taught history in school but never in a way that made him listen. It was names and dates and faces that only stuck around until he put his pencil down after his final exam. History always seemed to blend together to Calum. The past was the past and he always was okay leaving it there. Ashton’s words were what Calum yearned to hear. They were what he would remember a decade down the line.

“Every place must be like that,” Calum murmured though even he was not sure of the validity of his words. He had never felt as passionate about his home as Ashton seemed about Boston. Calum did not find much strength and perseverance in the country life, but maybe he just was not looking hard enough.

“Possibly, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be. No other life I’d rather live. I’ve tried to leave before, but something always pulls me back in.”

**< < >>**

“It feels like I’ve lived a million lives since the last time I saw you,” Calum admitted.

A lot had happened in the long span of time that Calum went without seeing hazel. He had had his heart broken, stared unrequited love in the face, stared back at love he did not feel the same for and grown into a man he sometimes did not recognize. Early mornings he would look into the mirror and bring his hand to his chin, rubbing at his jaw absentmindedly all the while trying to convince himself there was more to life than meets the eye.

Ashton’s thigh brushed against Calum’s accidentally and Calum did not mean to recoil from the touch but he did. He shrunk away from Ashton, leaning more towards the armrest of the wooden bench and less from his past. A long breath that swirled into the air and misted away took place of words. Calum fidgeted with his gloved fingers, remembering a time when cold air and melting snow had frozen him to the bone.

Calum felt Ashton turn toward him but would not meet his gaze. He kept his eyes trained above the ground where tiny snowflakes would eventually meet the ground and melt and disappear. Just like Calum did. One day here and the next day gone. He had not meant to vanish without a trace, nor did he mean to stay away for so long. Now that Calum was older he realized his own mistakes but would not shoulder the responsibility for everything. Life was a double edged sword that constantly swayed from the fray.

“We were so much younger back then, our lives had barely even begun.”

“In another ten years you’ll be saying the same thing,” Calum countered swiftly, but still, would not meet Ashton’s gaze though he felt it burning a hole in the side of his head.

Calum yearned to go someplace else, somewhere where memories were not so rampant but he realized that was the sole reason of coming back. He wanted to relive the moments that had shaped him as a young adult, bask in the glory of a city that introduced him to his first love. He wanted to regain what once was lost. He felt conflicted as he finally looked up from the ground, gaze casted upon the tree line beyond the barriers of the ice rink. Calum remembered snow bowing what once were sturdy branches, piles of white weight that threatened to snap the living in half.

Now the trees were bare bark that looked a muted brown color, a few stray leaves clung to the branches as if a last resort. Everything around was dead or dying and Calum wondered how it was that winter became so beautiful in the midst of it all. But then he recalled snow that was dazzling white under shining lights and rosy cheeks and bright mittened hands and realized that winter was a time when people came alive.

Calum finally swallowed down his nerves and chanced a look over in Ashton’s direction. Their eyes did not immediately meet and for a split second Calum worried that he would be searching for hazel for another ten years. Ashton’s eyes had always been warm, a gaze that expressed more than words ever could deep set into the flecks of brown that danced around in green. Calum fell in love with brown that winter many years ago, something enchanting about searching for the color hidden in Ashton’s eyes.

“Time is funny that way, the past always looks so much further behind than it really is,” Ashton replied _finally._

**< < >>**

They had devolved into conversation about anything and everything. Calum did not mind the cold air as much when hot cocoa slid warmth into his body, when body heat radiated off of Ashton and towards Calum. Calum was not certain how long they had been talking but the sun was setting behind the tree line, giving the ice a hazy orange glow that looked like comets. Ashton bumped Calum’s thigh with his own and Calum felt the world fall into his lap.

Calum was lost in their conversation, he was not sure where they had left off by the time he pulled himself back to reality. Just a small touch from Ashton heating his cheeks and making him derail.

“I’m telling you, the art museum here is wicked amazing. I wouldn’t go there all the time if it wasn’t,” Ashton laughed and so did Calum, because Ashton’s laugh was becoming infectious. “I actually hope to be an art curator for them someday.”

Calum sparked back to their conversation, they had transition to sightseeing and what Calum planned to visit. In all reality Calum was not sure he had planned to go sightseeing, he did not have anything specific in his mind that he felt he needed to see. He thought that maybe he would experience it all just by wandering, and that the most important part of his trip was already accomplished, he had gotten away from home. He was somewhere new, it just so turns out that somewhere new was slowly, yet very quickly all the same, becoming much more magical than he initially thought.

“I’ll have to check it out while I’m around.”

“How long do you plan to stay?”

**< < >>**

Calum was jarred by Ashton’s question. He was not sure. He had not packed for any specific amount of time. His apartment was on a month to month lease and he had taken a personal sabbatical from work. He was sure the mill would not miss him too much, there were eager workers ready to take his place at any and every moment.

“I don’t know, a couple months maybe?” Calum said as more of a question.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

<< >>

Calum blushed, teenage innocence and inexperience tinting his cheeks an adorable pink. Calum nodded, playing it cool but conveying the message that he would love to see Ashton again—and so soon nonetheless.

“Great! I’ll take you to the museum and maybe a couple other stops along the way,” Ashton said as if he were already planning the entire day out in his mind. His eyes shone as he thought and Calum could not stop thinking about the way the light reflected off of them and how his eyelashes casted shadows on his rosy cheeks.

“I would love that,” Calum murmured though he was not sure Ashton had heard him entirely as he prattled on about what they could do the next day.

Calum listened intently, picking up a few keywords along the way and stored them in his back pocket. He would ask Michael that night about them and hopefully impress Ashton with a little bit of knowledge. Calum bit his lip, nose wrinkling as Ashton mentioned something about a massacre. Calum was sure he had heard wrong, surely Ashton did not find a massacre to be a great spot to take him.

“Don’t give me that look,” Ashton all but chuckled. “It’s an important piece of history. Remember how I said that for every battle lost a war was won? This is a piece of what made Boston into what it is. It was a driving force in the Patriot’s cause. The Patriot’s aren’t just a wicked kick ass football team, you know.”

Calum was kind of understanding where Ashton was coming from. Back home there were monuments and statues scattered across the town. Calum had never been observant enough to recall what they were for exactly, but he did know they were a part of his homes history. Some people fought tooth and nail to protect them and others would have loved to see the past destroyed. And some, much like Calum himself, were indifferent. Whether they were right or wrong, they were etches of the past that everyone could learn from. Burying history does not erase it, it only makes the future more ignorant.

“Most times people walk right past it and don’t know the significance. But if you pay attention— _really_ pay attention—you’ll find history all around you.”

**< < >>**

Calum remembered their history, the snowball effect of _can I see you tomorrow_ turning into a winter long romance. They had thrived in the cold, come alive in the winter while everything else was left to blossom in the spring. He thought it was funny for a while, how a season so unforgiving had given Calum something so precious and when spring came and the earth came alive with green, they had started to fade out into a hazy white. Calum swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

Ashton breathed out a sigh in what Calum assumed was relief. He did not realize that Ashton too held his breath, as if the moment was so fragile a blow of air could have broken it into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Will you meet me at our spot?” Ashton then asked and promptly backtracked. “Do you remember where it is?”

 Calum nodded slowly. He could never forget. Their spot had been so heavily ingrained into him by the time he left Boston he could have walked from his home in the south all the way to the beautiful art in the north.

“Of course I do,” Calum confirmed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. At the usual time.”

Calum—without waiting for Ashton to say another word—stood up and walked away. Dead grass under feet. A heavy feeling in his chest. He was terrified. And unlike the first time they had met in the park, their goodbyes were not filled with hope and promises, but regret and permanent pasts.

They left off in much the same way they had in their pasts, with promises of tomorrow’s meeting in the same location. Calum walked back to his apartment slowly, fingers sliding up into the confines of his sleeves and breaths leaving intricate patterns in the chilly air. As he walked on and the streets that were once so foreign to him became familiar once more, he thought back to a time when he thought Ashton’s eyes held drips of golden brown melted into green and how they had held sincerity and the secrets of the universe. But with only fleeting glances at Ashton on the park bench just minutes ago, Calum saw shadowy forests of brown and green that hid secrets from him and broken promises like splintered gold; he knew there was no way out of the forest. And yet he was willingly stepping back into its depths.

**< < >>**

Calum woke before the city came back to life from its night time callings. Four A.M. stared blearily at him in red digital numbers. The sun had not even come up yet Calum felt more alive and alert than ever. He felt hardwired, like his circuits were a bit frayed but ready nonetheless. He buzzed about his tiny apartment for hours, doing anything that would keep his hands and his mind occupied. When six thirty struck he pulled on his boots and embraced the winter air. Overnight snow had fallen and not melted. The streets were lined with white, orange shovels flinging snow through the air and off the sidewalks. There was not much snow on the ground, a few inches Calum guessed, but it was enough to remind him of his first morning with Ashton.

It was a short walk to The Museum of Fine Arts, the building was still closed and the light that had finally worked its way into the sky looked serene against the statue that stood proudly in the center of the lawn. Calum had a moment of apprehension as he stood on the other side of the road from the museum, his feet turned in on themselves, lip bitten almost raw in the cool air. He noticed other people milling about, either walking briskly to their destination or much like himself, dwindling on the sidewalk. He knew he was a bit early, he wanted to see the museum for the first time in a decade on his own. It was just as breathtaking as he remembered it from his adolescence. Only this time, it was not just art that embedded itself into Calum’s mind, it was history.

**< < >>**

The first time Calum truly saw The Museum of Fine Arts the lawn had been covered in a dazzling blanket of white. Piled so high it almost blended in with the cool sky. The sun had created diamond like reflections off the snow and the statue that stood on the front lawn looked as if it were emerging from a battle of the elements. Calum had cracked a grin at the view, it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The lights in the building were off and he realized the establishment was not open yet. There were not many other people out on the streets that morning.

If Calum were to guess he would have assumed that the lack of people outside were instead all inside—wrapped in blankets and in front of fireplaces. The air was bone chilling but the sun provided a small amount of warmth, it was a reminder that warmer times were to come. Calum had crept out of his shared apartment, or tried to. Michael had been the only one to rise at the stumbling over shoes and the few profanities that had slipped out of Calum’s mouth as his knees hit the metal rung of a barstool.

Michael had merely asked where Calum was going so early on a weekend morning. Calum had mu            mbled out a small and tired reply as he laced up his boots and tugged on his jacket. Michael did not seem to react much to Calum’s destination, instead he pulled his blanket further up his body and rolled over, Calum leaving the apartment with one last groan from Michael. He had prodded Michael a bit the night before about some of the things and places Ashton had mentioned, Michael gave vague details and encouraged Calum to relax, the city and the past would come to him one way or another.

Snow fell lightly around him as he stood on the other side of the road from the museum, tiny flakes gathered on his shoulders and the top of his head. Calum did his best to shake away the buildup, but his hair was already wet. He knew there was something he had forgotten. A hat would have been quite suitable for the weather. Calum was so used to walking out his own door back home without a jacket or a second thought that he now found adjusting to the north’s winter was becoming a costly struggle.  Hands on his shoulders surprised him but then a familiar laugh followed and he relaxed immediately at the touch. Calum spun around and came face to face with Ashton.

**< < >>**

Ashton appeared out of a foggy haze that settled over the morning. Calum swallowed down his nerves as Ashton approached, one step at a time, one thudding heart beat after another. Calum could not place the nerves he felt, they were foreign. He had never felt his heart beat in his stomach and his chest and his neck all at the same time. Every nerve ending on his body felt like it was on fire, as if he could have melted the world’s snow in an instant.

“Morning,” Ashton said brightly. Calum only grinned in response. Ashton’s eyes were glowing that morning, Calum silently studied the flecks of brown that danced around green as Ashton spoke on. Calum’s gaze shifted down to Ashton’s pink petal lips, pursed in thought and contemplation before he spoke. “I thought we could start the day out early, there’s so many things you need to see; we can’t waste a moment of daylight.”

Calum agreed, he did not want to waste a moment of light either, what with the way brown seemed like gold and highlights cut across Ashton’s face and set him afire against the white winter behind him. There was something special about the nights of Boston, but there was something even more special about Ashton in the daylight. “Where to first?” Calum inquired, trying to play it cool, like the air that swept across them.

Ashton checked the watch adorned on his wrist and blew out a puff of air. “Breakfast first?”

Calum happily obliged, as he realized he had slipped out of his apartment without even eating breakfast. He had not thought that there was time for it, he had woken late and wanted to get to Ashton as early as he could. There was nothing but excitement buzzing inside him all night—he could hardly even sleep—having thought about the prospect of seeing Ashton and Boston the next day. Calum realized there was a childlike wonder still inside him as they walked to a small diner not too far off. He gaped at winter city life, it was so out of the ordinary for him.

He praised city dwellers that trudged through the snow and the cold, determination settled on all of their faces as they wound around the city and got to where they needed to be. Everything seemed so purposeful in a city, every street, every light, every drop of paint on the roads. Back home there were no discernable purposes too much of anything. Life went on the way it always did, day by day with not much difference between them.

They slid into a booth in the back and kept conversation light. Mostly they talked of the differences between Calum’s home and Boston, how much he missed his family, but above all else—how much he adored the city. Ashton had turned the paper place mat over so a blank side greeted him and dug around in his jacket pockets to procure a pencil. Calum smiled as he watched Ashton sketch on the place mat, the work came together quickly, dashed lines became shapes and those shapes became actual things. It was a person under the sun, reaching out as if to embrace the light and Calum questioned if maybe the person was him, yet he did not ask Ashton that. When Ashton pushed the quick drawing towards him Calum rolled it up and stuffed it in his pocket so as to keep it.

**< < >>**

Calum now gazed at the city as Ashton cleared his throat and a thick silence settled between them. Calum remembered what it first felt like to be somewhere so new and exciting. How he thought purpose was all around him and opportunity hid around every bend. He now knew he was correct in his first assumption. Boston had offered him more in half a year than his home had in all of his life. But Boston also loaded him with regrets, what ifs and should haves. He kicked at the small accumulation of snow beneath his feet, almost wiping away the imprint of his boot.

“It’s almost like old times, huh?” Ashton finally spoke, but his voice was so low and his gaze was so far off Calum might have assumed he was talking to himself. Except he too felt the weight of the words Ashton had muttered. _Almost_ was the finest of prints that weighed heavier than the world. Nothing would ever quite be the way it once was.

“Yes, almost.”

**< < >>**

“I _almost_ didn’t believe you when you said this diner had the best food in the city,” Calum began. “But now I can without a doubt say you were so right.”

Ashton smiled at Calum as they exited the diner, they had taken up a temporary residence at a booth in the back as they fell into what felt like an endless stream of easy conversation. Minutes had ticked by and food had disappeared from plates yet they both seemed content enough not to make the first move away from the booth. It was only when the waitress said lunch would soon be approaching in a less than friendly tone that they had gotten the hint and left a hearty tip behind.

“I’m always right,” Ashton teased. “Or at least we Bostonian’s never admit defeat—even if we’re technically ‘wrong’—but we never are, so no worries there.”

“You can’t always be right,” Calum insisted, taking a small jab at Ashton who faltered only for a split second.

“Sometimes we’re just not right… _yet…_ but once we are then we are never wrong in the end. And that’s when it matters most.”

Calum rolled his eyes and stood his ground, though he knew Ashton would not cave on being right. The banter was easy but challenging all the same. It killed time as they walked back to the museum. The lights had come on in the stretch of buildings, the whole place was lit aglow against the white foreground. Anticipation settled low in Calum’s stomach, pleasant nerves made him feel alive as Ashton grinned at him as if he were about to show Calum a whole other world.

**< < >>**

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” Calum suddenly asked, he was not sure why the words came tumbling out but once they started he knew they would not stop. “Ten years later looking at this place like it’s never been known, looking at each other like strangers?”

Finally Calum worked up the courage to look over at Ashton and not keep his gaze trained on the ground or the sky or anything other than Ashton. Calum noticed that Ashton’s jaw was set and his head was tilted ever so slightly to the sky, hazel eyes searching for the sun on an overcast day. Calum waited, frayed nerves on fire but he did not regret what he said. He had come back for answers, and this was one that he desired.

“I wouldn’t have assumed so, no. Not in the beginning anyway. I never would have thought we’d be strangers on the street. But then you left and I couldn’t bring myself to think that we wouldn’t meet again one day. Of course I never would have predicted it would be so long between.”

Calum stood shell shocked at the honesty. He was not expecting for Ashton to be so forward. So honest. To bring up the past in such a direct way, where the words seemed to come out so easily, when it was all still so painful for Calum. Ten years had done little to chip away at the pain of the past. Of course, Calum had not confronted his past in all those years. He had never fully come to terms with the decisions that were made and the footsteps that lead them away from each other.

Calum felt as though he had bottled up his emotions and put them on a shelf. He figured that back then he would work through them at some point. Little did he know it would take ten years and a train ride back to the place that weighed heavily in his heart to do so. He stood there, unsure what he was feeling, but knew that the confusion meant that he at least, was feeling _something_. He had not given himself permission to feel so freely in a long time.

**< < >>**

They had entered the museum in a rush of giggles and rosy cheeks. But once the art was displayed in front of them Ashton had turned serious and inquisitive. Calum watched Ashton, gazing at the boy whose eyes glossed over in deep thought, knowing that even though he was not staring at canvases and frames, he was gazing at art nonetheless. They had come to a section in the museum that Ashton told Calum was of a certain era in art.

“It’s all romanticism. Its intentions are to pull an emotion from the viewer no matter if it’s beautiful or tragic or tragically beautiful—the latter being the most desired. I guess we just have to guess what the artist was feeling, take hints from the painting and what it expresses. This one-“ Ashton said and pointed towards a landscape painting just up the aisle from where they were. “This one is my favorite in the whole museum. _Expulsion from the Garden of Eden_ , not only do you guess what the artist was feeling but can clearly see the light and the dark sides of the world portrayed, what beauty was lost, terror found. To me it was only terrifying because it was unknown. On the light side you can see life and what I have always interpreted as love bestowed upon that life. On the dark side you don’t see much of anything other than the lack of such. But, life is complicated and you walk many paths. Some that lead to the light and others that lead out of the dark.”

“Wouldn’t that mean that all paths lead to the light?” Calum questioned after Ashton’s tangent.

“What’s up must come down, what’s dark will turn light. It’s a half full perspective one might say. The moon comes out but the sun will surely rise.”

“I’ve never thought of art that way, let alone life. I haven’t stopped to appreciate the light before,” Calum began and almost backtracked for he remembered the way the sun shone down on Ashton. “I guess I’d never weighed the pros and cons of dark versus light.”

“Some people are enamored by the dark and the moon, but I’m entranced by the light and the sun. Honestly the moon is _so_ overrated. It’s the perfect cliché of poetry, every poet uses it in every poem, no matter an analogy or simile or merely to say the moon was there. It’s the trademark of modern art, writers think it makes them profound—‘bathed in the moonlight’, ‘drinking in the moon’. None of that has ever made sense to me. I’d rather bask in the light and warmth of day than romanticize the dark of night. It’s not beautiful and mysterious as most say. It’s cold. And calculated. Most horrors happen in the night. The phases of the moon do not reflect on us as people, they do not affect us in any way. But we cannot live without the sun, we cannot love without the light.”

Calum let Ashton’s words sink in, he was not sure he completely agreed with Ashton. He could see where he was coming from, having read and seen the moon as a trademark of romance and livelihood in many a poem and painting. But Calum did not think there was anything fundamentally wrong with that. The moon was overrated, he supposed, but then he thought that there must be a reason it was so admired. He voiced that opinion to Ashton, challenge in his tone and Ashton merely grinned as if he thrived under the scope of challenge.

“It’s as if _we’re_ day and night,” Ashton laughed, accepting Calum’s viewpoint while still believing in his own. Calum liked the slight challenge of perspective Ashton offered him, it was broadening to realize art came in so many different forms and procured so many different opinions. He knew art was subjective to the viewer and what beauty was found was that in the eye of the beholder but it was a new world to hear other’s thoughts. Calum appreciated Ashton’s viewpoint, it opened his eyes in a critical way.

**< < >>**

Calum felt his heart opening on that dark foggy day. Memories seemed to dance before Calum, all highlighted in white and melting in hazel. Ashton was speaking but Calum was not hearing the words he tried so hard to listen to. He caught a few key words, something about the past and regret. Calum felt much the same, that is, if what he heard was really what Ashton meant. Calum thought back to their last moment’s together, maybe this was the problem all along. Not saying what they meant and not meaning what they said. Calum cleared his throat and Ashton’s ramblings came to an end abruptly, as if caught off guard, as if he was not sure he should have been speaking in the first place.

Without communicating they both started walking. Nowhere in particular was set in mind for either of them, but an escape and movement needed in the tense air that had settled around them. Calum blew out a breath, hair once hanging in his face now stirred up and settling in almost the same position as before. Ashton used to have long hair, honey curls that were wild and unruly, only ever tamed by a hat or bandana. Now, his hair was trimmed and well kept.

**< < >>**

Ashton’s curls fell into his face as he swiped a paintbrush across a canvas with purpose. They had left the museum and made quick pace to Ashton’s apartment. One step inside and Calum felt at home. Exposed brick walls and low hanging lanterns left the small space feeling homey. Ashton had been excited to show Calum art and even more excited to show him the process of art. Ashton puffed out a breath of air and his hair stirred up with the effort. Calum did not realize it then, but he yearned to reach out and brush the hair away. Any sort of contact with Ashton wanted.

It was a quiet exchange, Calum watching intently as Ashton brought a whole world to life on what was once a white canvas. As colors began to blend and shapes began to take form Calum realized what Ashton was painting. The Boston skyline highlighted in golden light. Calum grinned when he realized, the light of the sun never once lost on Ashton. Busy hands kept sweeping across the canvas, adding finishing touches that helped bring the light into focus. Calum was enraptured by the process, it was something he had never given any thought to. Art was art and it was only that in Calum’s eyes. Hardly that at most times.

Ashton was somehow able to open Calum’s eyes and show him another world. Paint on a canvas and a life worth showcasing all in one. They waited for it to dry with small talk about the city filling their time. Calum was still caught in a whirlwind of the city, there was so much more to see and experience before his time was up and he would have to go to school. Calum mentioned this, the ever present feeling of not having enough time and Ashton merely smiled and shrugged.

“Then go to school in Boston, there’s a lot of great options here.”

Calum’s eyes glazed over at the prospect. It was an interesting thought that had not circled his mind before. He planned—originally planned—to spend the winter in the city as an escape from his home and the past, but knew it would all be waiting for him when the flowers began to bloom. Calum’s home was all he had ever known in his eighteen years of life, he wanted to chase after something bigger than heat filled monotonous days that dragged on into eternity. Maybe he had found that something bigger within a city that made the light look a little bit brighter.

**< < >>**

            “I thought I had the world figured out back then,” Ashton started as they continued to walk along. Calum gave full attention to Ashton this time, feeling as if what was going to be said was important. “I was so young and pretentious, I thought the universe sat in my hold and I knew all of its workings. I thought I was showing you all that I knew. I’d stare at paintings and see the world, I’d pretend to know the meanings within them. I didn’t know shit but what the library and museums told me. I was a dumb kid who wore confidence on his sleeve instead of his heart.

But you—you were the perfect contrast. You questioned me and made me stop and think. I always liked to say I was never wrong. And you called me on my bluffs. In the end I was the one who was wrong. It’s my fault, the way we ended. I admit that defeat.”

            Calum wanted to challenge that, to tell Ashton that it was nobody’s fault the way things had ended but the words were scorched in the back of his throat. He sucked in cool air, lips trembling at the thought of forming words that would release them of their past. It felt like dismissal, if the words were said then the past would not matter anymore. But it was all that mattered to Calum in that moment. It was everything to him; the sun in the sky, the decisions he had made to return.

            Instead of saying the words that could either make or break them, just as before, Calum stayed silent and let their footsteps continue on. This time they both walked on, no one was left behind. He realized where they were, that not far off another piece of their history was cemented into the streets of Boston, written in the highlights of the sun and faded with the notion of time.

**< < >>**

            A week had passed since Ashton first showed Calum Boston, opened his eyes to art and made him appreciate the light. They had seen each other a few times since then, casual passings between Ashton’s work hours and Calum’s time with other friends and family. The time spent apart had Calum pondering how much Ashton already influenced him and made him feel different. He knew how much he liked Ashton from the first time they met, a generous hand and dimpled smile was all it took for Calum to find a liking with the other boy. After a week more of guiding hands and stories and sunlight, Calum found Ashton to be even more likable than first impressions.

            It wasn’t strange for Calum to fall so easily, he supposed it was a strength and a weakness in him. He found the good in people to be amplified. He was blinded by that good and could not see the negatives. Though, in the bottom of his heart he could feel there was nothing alarmingly bad about Ashton. In just a week’s time and exploring the city with another it was all enough to make Calum feel as though he were in a slow free fall. He was not rapidly falling, the pace was slow and easy but he was definitely feeling the impact of the fall.

            They had agreed to meet in the morning once more when Ashton had a day off from work, the morning meetings becoming something of a ritual. To Calum, they were important and gave him something to look forward to during long nights with his roommates. They could get rowdy at times and wear Calum down and other times it was just Michael and him playing video games on the couch. Michael had asked about Ashton once or twice more and Calum had only briefly told him some information, leaving out the bigger details—the important details.

            Calum told Michael of all the places Ashton took him but not the way he made him feel. He left out the way the sun fell so perfectly on Ashton and highlighted already handsome features. He told Michael he was learning about Boston and the people. He excluded the fact that every time their hands so much as brushed Calum felt lightning strike up his heart and reverberate through his body. He heard beautiful thunder in the distance when Ashton said his name, the two syllables rolling of his tongue melodically. He told Michael he liked to spend time with Ashton. And though Calum knew Michael saw through the façade of playing it cool, he continued to do so anyway.

            That day Ashton took Calum to the site of the Boston Massacre—as he had previously mentioned when skating—and explained the history. Calum listened to Ashton’s words contently, picturing them as if a movie played out in his mind. He could envision the tragedy but then picture the triumph when fighting back paid off. Nothing tasted better than victory.

            Later that night Ashton towed Calum off to Yawkey Way and while Calum was already aware that Fenway Park was historic he did not know the history and the adversity. They stood behind the Green Monster with scarves pulled up around their chins to ward off the chilly breeze, muffled words reaching Calum as they stood so close together.

            “The Red Sox are the pride and joy of this city, even when they let us down. We have this faith that just keeps building back up in us. Eighty six years of a curse does that to people. So many times we could almost grasp victory, so many missed chances and failure looming on top of us makes us resilient people. But when that final fateful day came where all faith that had been trampled on was finally restored, it was the only victory that ever mattered.”

            “What was it like? The day victory finally came?”

            Ashton grinned and Calum did too, it was almost habit, like walking in an already formed path. Ashton stepped, Calum followed. Ashton smiled, Calum smiled. Ashton took a moment to form the right words and Calum watched him and looked to the ground with a bitten lip and then looked back up at him, the brown in his eyes dancing under the street lights.

            “People flooded the streets and embraced each other as if we were all family. Perfect strangers laughed and cheered and formed lifelong memories that day. The curse was broken and the people’s faith was no longer belittled. 1918 doesn’t follow us anymore, we prevailed past mistakes of the past and rose up.”

**< < >>**

            Day quickly turned to night and Ashton left Calum thinking of their past. There was a part of him that considered that maybe they too could rise up and prevail. It was not unusual for Calum to turn back the clock and immerse himself in memories of his time with Ashton. If anything, it would be unusual for him not to do so. For so long the past had been a ghost to Calum, merely shadows dancing in already dark rooms that faded when sunlight spilled in past sheer curtains. Now he was faced with it all and those ghosts that had haunted him for all those years were not as terrifying as he had built them up to be.

            Calum sat on his bed, the tiny apartment only lit up by the small television that sat in the corner. He mindlessly flipped through the channels, the clicker was in his hand and his eyes were on the screen but his mind wandered. He did not find focus on the television until familiar uniforms stared back at him. A football game claimed the airtime and Calum felt a rush of excitement shoot through him. The New England Patriots were down a score and the clock had drained to less than two minutes. Calum remembered the faith of the city, the crowd roaring as the quarterback launched the ball far and long, a receiver extending his reach to claim it as his own. Calum held his breath, thinking back to when he had been a part of the crowd, back to when an arm had been around his shoulders and the tension in the air was palpable but overridden by hope.

**< < >>**

            Sunday night lights brought the stadium to life. The intense entrance music set the mood, all in the crowd knew this game was big and the outcome weighed heavily on everyone’s shoulders. When the lights came on and the field was taken by the team, those in the crowd were not just fans anymore. They were the livelihood, the screaming passion and the noise that carried songs of support to the players. Calum stood beside Ashton, chairs useless as all would be on their feet for the majority of the night.

            Snow began to fall just after halftime, the Patriots were down by two scores and the crowd was wild. Every third down brought a new wave of emotion over the people, when their offense was on the field it was quiet but supportive, noise saved for the defense, trying to drive the other team’s offensive game down. The game had stayed close and Calum found himself gripping Ashton’s hand, the anxiety of it all getting the better of him. Calum had never been one to care for football so much, he’d much rather play and watch soccer, but in that stadium football was much bigger than it was on television. He had never tasted victory in person, never seen the crowds wild reaction. And that was all he wanted in that moment.

            The third quarter kept the game close and by the fourth with only two minutes left in the game, the Patriots trailed by six, a missed point after by the other team giving them a chance to win it all. The last two minutes of the game went by fast, long and on target throws from the quarterback to any receiver open moved the ball up the field quickly. They let the play clock wind down, not wanting to give the other team much of a chance on offense. With only a handful of seconds left the ball made its way into the end zone and the crowd bursted to life.

            Ashton pulled Calum in closer, the screams surrounding them and the chaos shrouding them. The game was tied and a point after would win it but the Patriots were not content with that. The offense line up once more, hoping to complete a two point conversion. Calum’s heart was hammering in his chest, beating out a rhythm to the songs of the city. When the ball was snapped he did not dare look at the field, instead he watched Ashton, waiting for a reaction from the boy who wore all emotion better than anyone Calum knew. In a split second Ashton went from tense and rigid to celebrating with arms spread open and screams falling from his mouth. Calum knew they had scored the two point conversion and how much it meant to nearly everyone in that stadium. An onside kick and recovery later and the quarterback descended into victory formation, taking a knee to drain the clock and win the game.

            Calum did not quit talking about the game all the way back to the city that night, Ashton had turned on the radio but kept it low enough to only be background noise. Calum had never experienced something so visceral, a shared reaction with tens of thousands of other people leaving him feeling high. He walked on air all the way up to his apartment and for the first time Ashton was blushing when they reached Calum’s door. A moment of awkward silence started their goodbyes, Ashton’s body shifting unsurely leaving Calum wondering if there was something more he wanted out of the night.

**< < >>**

            Looking back, Calum considered that maybe Ashton’s body language was begging for something more than a timid ‘goodbye’ and awkward half hug that night. Knowing what he knew now, he pondered that maybe that night could have been the starting point of what they were and what they would become. Ashton was great with his words when it came to the past and art and the way of the people but lacked the capacity to communicate his own emotions with words. Calum could only ever watch the way his eyes would cloud over and how the creases in his forehead deepened when in thought.

            Without seeing if the game was won that night, because nothing would ever live up to the real thing, Calum turned off the television and sighed as he tossed his body further into the bed. He went to sleep thinking of snow falling around a crowd, an arm around his shoulder and victory cries falling from lips that begged to be kissed.

**< < >>**

Calum was not sure how he had wandered all the way to a frost covered hill or why he stood statue still at the very top. He had spent one night in a peaceful sleep and had woken with the sun. This hill was not as he remembered it from so long ago, it was not blanketed in snow and given the illusion of magic as snowflakes fell around him. This hill was a long buried memory, one that Calum only ever dug out on the loneliest of nights, when his bed held the imprint of two but the other had left before the sun dared make an ascent into the sky.

Those nights were Calum’s least favorite yet he found himself wrapped up in them more often than not. The biting loneliness was nulled if only momentarily. He craved the touch of another body, soft skin under fingertips that trailed and traced, exploring each new person, trying his best to forget his past. It always caught up with him though, in the mornings when the other person had vacated the bed and his house he found himself alone once more. Missing the one person who had stuck around the longest. The one person he had walked away from. Ashton. Calum felt foolish to look back on the past with regrets, but it was hard not to, his heart never felt as content as it did in Boston. In the mittened and gentle hands of Ashton.

The world around him seemed barren, there were no other people around, only the sounds of a whipping wind blowing past him keeping him any sort of company. Calum recalled how lonely the city could feel, how huge it felt yet so small all the same. His time re-spent with Ashton hung heavily on his shoulders, the past was always looming behind him but after two days of being confronted with it face to face Calum was unsure how he felt. He knew this was why he had come back, finally came to terms with Ashton being his reason.

Calum kicked at the ground, hands diving into his jacket pockets as he forgot to wear gloves once again. He remembered what it was like ten years ago, how snowflakes had melted on his tongue and cold hands gripped sled strings in a failed attempt at steering down the hill. Ashton had laughed as they had tumbled over one another. Now Calum stood alone with only his memories before him.

**< < >>**

Calum threw his head back to look at the sky, snowflakes fell freely all around him. He had made imprints in the already fallen snow, feet stuck and sure as he stood with his arms spread open, Ashton right next to him. Calum felt like a king in a winter wonderland as he stood on top of a snow piled hill. Ashton had beckoned to Calum early in the morning as new snow fell from the sky and footprints had not made an appearance in the white. Calum was quickly becoming enamored with the mornings and even more so with Ashton.

“I didn’t realize you were such a morning person,” Calum said, the words swirling hot breath into the chilly air. Calum peered over at Ashton who had stood in much the same position Calum had but broke posture and shifted closer to Calum. “I knew you loved the light but the crack of dawn really is a new extreme.”

“Day light is precious, especially in the winter. Why waste it?” Ashton asked in answer to Calum’s statement. “There’s no better feeling than snow on the ground and the sun in the sky.”

            “You really do love the sun,” Calum laughed as Ashton threw his head back once more overdramatically as if basking in the light of day. “I’m usually more of a night person myself. Your schedule really is taking a toll on me.”

            Ashton laughed at Calum’s joke and lightly threw a handful of snow over Calum’s way. “I’m just trying to make sure you get enough Vitamin D. _And_ provide you with your first snowy winter. I mean, who hasn’t gone sledding?” Ashton quipped and kicked the plastic sled over to Calum. Calum reached out to pull it in before it made a descent down the hill unwarrantedly.

Calum had told Ashton on a walk home one evening that all winter traditions and activities had been unlived in his life. There was hardly ever any snow down south, let alone enough to go sledding or build snowmen, perhaps a slight dusting would fall but it would melt within what felt like seconds to Calum. Instead he and his friends would sit in the backyard on slightly chilly evenings with a bonfire blazing, a secret flask being passed around and words that felt weightless being exchanged. There was not much winter in Calum’s life, and Ashton was determined to change that.

They started on a hilltop that was neatly tucked just outside of the bustling city, a small place that Ashton used to come to as a child. Calum looked down at the sled unsurely, from the top of the hill it looked like a steep descent, even at his own towering height. Calum bit his lip and contemplated.

“You go down the hill with me,” he requested in less than a question. Ashton smiled and stepped forward willingly.

“Well if you insist,” Ashton responded quickly and set the sled just right so they could each climb on.

Calum put his trust in Ashton who held the reins to the sled, Ashton murmured something about never steering Calum wrong, a fantastic pun that made Calum roll his eyes but laughed when Ashton laughed. Ashton always could crack himself up. They slid down the hill quickly gaining momentum. Calum pressed closer into Ashton’s back though he was not scared of the descent. The end of the hill came upon them quickly and Ashton quickly turned them to a skidding stop. The weight distribution had them toppling over each other into the powdery snow and laughs unstoppable in the winter air.

Neither of them made a move to change positon, Ashton laid lightly on top of Calum who could tell Ashton was pressing most of his weight into his knees that imprinted into the snow. Calum was still, only hot breath swirling into the cold air and slightly quivering lips. Calum was not sure in that moment if he trembled from the cold or if it was another reason entirely. He remembered the way Ashton’s body had swayed at the doorway after the game, a bombarding doubt and regret filled mind had followed Calum that night. Maybe, just maybe, if he had leaned-in as well something more would have happened.

Weeks had gone by of knowing Ashton, of feeling like his seasons were finally complete because of the other man. Calum never thought he needed winter in his life so much as he did then, he had not lived a full season of it yet but deep in his heart he knew the snow would never melt. He did not wish away the cold or the ice. Because to Calum, Ashton was the winter. And though Calum did fear the coming tide of spring and the changes it would be bring, he felt content to live every moment to the fullest in the cool atmosphere.

Ashton giggled and Calum was unaware of what had suddenly become so funny but regardless he smiled too. Ashton finally shifted his weight and rose so he was sitting on his knees and his back was upright. Slowly, as if to give time Calum to move away, Ashton reached for Calum’s hands and moved them upward, spreading Calum’s arms out in a wing like motion. For a moment Calum was confused but then it dawned on him. He kicked his legs in the same motion. A snow angel formed in the snow and in Calum’s heart. Ashton’s hair a mess of snow and a halo of light surrounded him, dawned down on him like Heaven above was in charge.

**< < >>**

A small wind blew and memories of the hilltop vanished with it. Calum tugged his jacket closer around him and shivered. He was alone in the city, he had not heard from Ashton again. Ashton had only reappeared at the ice rink and at the art museum. Everything around Calum was unsettled. The past was still wide open and Calum knew he was the one who had blown it open. He could not stand to keep it bottled up anymore. And as painful as it was to be back in a city where love was lost it was easier to come to terms with the fact that things may stay unsettled.

**< < >>**

Cold and wet clothes peeled off their bodies slowly, they stood in nothing but knickers in the small corner where Ashton’s washer and dryer sat. Shivers ran up and down Calum’s spine. He had been to Ashton’s place a few times before but never had he seen Ashton so exposed. Calum felt bared down to his soul as Ashton pulled blankets down from a cupboard and wrapped one around Calum’s shoulders, hands lingering—Calum longing for more. Ashton was smooth and toned and Calum could not help but notice in the small time it took for Ashton to also cover himself with a blanket.

They warmed themselves by the stove top as Ashton heated up water for hot chocolate and let their clothes tumble in the dryer, the snow had melted past their jackets and soaked their inner layers. A movie played on the television in the background but neither one paid any mind to it. Calum kept his eyes on Ashton and Ashton kept his eyes on the kettle. It did not take long for the water to heat and the chocolate packets with the marshmallows to be mixed up. They took their mugs to the couch and laid sprawled out with their blankets and bodies overlapping each other.

Calum had never been so content in his life, it was as if this was exactly where he was supposed to be and the universe had done a great justice in bringing him there. Dim light from the setting sun shone through the bare windows and the temperature had dipped even lower. Soon enough Calum had found himself closer and closer to Ashton but was unsure who it was that had moved. Either way, he did not mind.

Calum’s head came to rest on Ashton’s shoulder and his eyes wandered upward, taking in the sight of Ashton’s pronounced jaw line and his pursed lips. Calum could tell he was deep in thought, Ashton’s eyes were on the television, his mind anywhere but. Calum longed to know where Ashton went in his thoughts. He wondered if maybe Ashton ever thought of him in the same way he thought of Ashton. Sinking deeper into the blankets Calum let himself get lost in his thoughts. Once more he found himself caught in a web of Ashton.

 Ashton shifted and Calum’s thoughts came crashing down around him. They were now looking each other dead in the eyes, mere inches apart. Calum was nearly vibrating at the closeness, his heart was thudding against his ribcage, it felt as if his stomach had dropped and completely abandoned him. Ashton slowly moved closer and so did Calum until the taste of chocolate and peppermint become one on their lips. It was tentative and unexplored at first, they took their time and savored every moment and taste of each other they could get. And once they finally pulled apart for the sake of breathing, Calum knew that Ashton had been thinking of him.

Heavy eyelids and a happy heart soothed both Calum and Ashton to sleep that night. They slept all bundled up on the couch with half full mugs of hot chocolate left on the living room table. They went to sleep with desires finally fulfilled and more to look forward to in the future. Calum could not explain it, but it was the best night of sleep he ever had.

**< < >>**

 Calum walked home from the lone hilltop and was met with a folded over note slid under his door as he entered the apartment. He almost didn’t notice it, had barely stepped over it when it caught his eye. He spun back around and bent over to retrieve it. He was not expecting anything of the sort, had gotten no mail in the time he had been in Boston aside from bills for the apartment. Immediately the hand writing was recognizable, it was still burned into the back of Calum’s mind. The secret notes that Ashton would leave for Calum in the mornings when he would slip out as the sun rose. The handwriting he yearned to see over the ten years they had been apart but did not show up in the mail even once.

Calum wondered how Ashton had gotten his new address but realized Michael was the likely source. In the time Calum had been gone he knew that Michael and Ashton had formed a friendship and in a way Calum was happy they did. He would ask Michael how Ashton was, and the short worded answers were the only lifeline Calum had attached to Ashton. _He’s fine. He’s been okay. He got a new job._ And perhaps the most crushing answer of all; _He’s in a relationship._ That had been years down the line and Calum found himself neglecting to ask how Ashton was doing for a while after that. So when Michael called with the news that Ashton was single; _He’s heartbroken…_ it had reignited Calum’s desire to know.

The answers had changed after that. There was no more okay’s and fine’s. It had turned to _he’s doing better_ and _today was bad._  Calum knew deep inside those answers were what eventually drove him to build up the courage to purchase a train ticket. There were many days the ticket sat on his desk, tucked under papers but peeking out nonetheless. He had given himself a gap in time to decide whether or not he would go through with coming back. Eventually he decided it was time. Calum was not sure if it was the words of Michael and the visions of a downtrodden Ashton or if the universe had given him that last push. When he pulled the ticket out of the pile a familiar sketch fell with it, and Calum could have sworn he had not seen the paper in years, and yet, it was right there on his desk.

Slowly Calum tucked the note into his jacket pocket and took a moment to decide his next move. He felt frozen in his spot, as if ice had followed him in from the outside and stuck his feet to the floorboards. One shaky breath and a painful heart beat later and Calum knew what it was he had to do. He was going to follow the curved and messy writing on the note. Without looking back Calum headed out the door once more and found himself on the street, under twinkling lights that lined buildings and lampposts and anything that could be covered.

It was almost as if the city had become a winter wonderland in the time it took to get dark. The lights were ominous now against a darkened backdrop as Calum walked on alone. The moon was chilling and Calum could not wait to get out of its clutches. He remembered Ashton’s words at the museum; _cold_ and _calculated_ seemed the best description of the night.

**< < >>**

The first time Calum saw Ashton under the moonlight it was drowned out by the millions of other lights around them. They had road tripped up to Maine, a winter exhibit calling their names with the promise of lights and gardens. When Calum looked around at all that came together with the lights he started to realize that maybe the moon really wasn’t so brilliant in comparison to other light. Ashton brought a camera with him and snapped photos nonstop, some of just the lights and others of them in front of the lights.

The garden was mostly barren, not many flowers and plants left alive in the winter months but trees stood tall with lights wrapped around them that were twenty times more brilliant than flowers ever would be. Temperatures had dipped dramatically since Calum’s first few weeks in the north and though he found himself more equipped with a winter wardrobe he still stood close to Ashton’s side. Calum would take any excuse to be close to Ashton, a lack of heat one of the more practical ones.

Dozens of colors swirled around them in endless amounts of shapes. Highlights cut across the garden, ice sparkled back at the crowd as an added bonus. Calum would guess there were dozens if not hundreds or so people there with them that night. It was closing night of the exhibit and Ashton had dropped by Calum’s apartment in a surprise and dragged him out the door. He promised it would be something Calum could not miss. And now Calum realized why.

He felt a pang in his chest that he did not recognize. It was not painful but did take his breath away if only for a moment. Calum sidled closer to Ashton once the odd feeling vanished. He made sure Ashton took a lot of extra photos, he wanted his parents to see these lights and since it could not be in person he trusted Ashton to capture their beauty on camera.

“One more photo,” Ashton murmured more to himself than Calum but positioned Calum where he wanted him and let the flash snap in his face.

Calum grimaced but then grinned and looked easily over Ashton’s shoulder at the screen. Ashton was too fast for Calum though, he had turned the camera off in a split second, blinding Calum from seeing the outcome.

“Somethings are better off unseen.”

“Then why take the photo?” Calum questioned.

“Better off unseen until the time is right,” Ashton finished though Calum was not sure that was his full intention or meaning when he first said the words.

Calum narrowed his eyes at Ashton’s smooth aversion but did not question him further. If Ashton was up to something, as Calum highly suspected he was, he knew there was no way in Hell he would be able to get it out of Ashton. He was the master of tight lips and sealed secrets. Calum could poke and prod at him, tease him mercilessly, but until Ashton was ready for Calum to know what was going on, Calum would stay in the dark.  

**< < >>**

 Dim lit hallways led Calum to where the note had guided him. He was not super familiar with this side of the city, he had taken a cab to the destination and felt a pull drawing him into the brick building. Ivy ran up the sides and some people had put lanterns in their windows to decorate. The building was quiet as Calum walked the halls passing doors, eyes kept to the right where even numbers greeted him. He kept his look out for 226 and came upon it near a corner of the hall. He stopped short of the door, toes out of reach of the light that spilled from underneath the door.

Calum sucked in a huge breath, ribcage humming with a steady heartbeat that threatened to pick up pace as his hand reached towards the metal door. Apprehension swallowed Calum whole and slowed him down, he had a million questions racing through his mind as he clenched his hand into a fist and brought it up to knock. He knew the only way he would be getting answers laid on the other side of the door. He was not sure why he was so nervous, he had already confronted this situation before.

The door swung open before Calum was sure he had even knocked and Ashton stepped aside to let Calum in. His place was bigger than before. It was wide open spaces with high ceilings and a comfortable atmosphere all around. The lights were bright and Calum could not think of a more Ashton feel. Of course there would be no spaces of dark in his home. Ashton invited Calum further in, he had stopped just past the door way, feeling an almost unwelcome guest though it was Ashton who had called him there.

Venturing further into Ashton’s home proved painful. He saw art on the walls that he was not there to witness the creation of but was sure they were done by Ashton’s hands. Canvases were piled in one corner of the room, an easel stood tall with an unfinished work claimed the rest of the space. The apartment was tidy but lived in. Comfortable couches dominated the living space, an electric fireplace warmed the home and reminded Calum of sprawling out on blankets on the floor in front of the heater, food on the floor with them and snow plastered to the window as it stormed outside.

**< < >>**

“I really didn’t know it was supposed to storm!” Ashton said excitedly as the snow came falling down at more rapid paces, huge flakes falling from the sky vehemently but also gracefully. Snow seemed the only element that could rage a storm with such beauty. Ashton stood at the picture window in his small apartment, it was the selling point for him as the sun rose on that side and let natural light in. A brick wall stood not far off, but sunlight filtered past it and into the small home.

“I think you did, you just didn’t tell me so I’d be trapped here,” Calum joked and made Ashton wiggle his eyebrows.

“I see you’ve become wise to my plans.”

“It didn’t need to storm for me to stay,” Calum admitted with heated cheeks he was sure had turned a lovely shade of pink.

Ashton smiled easily but radiantly, the sky was dark gray but it was so easy for Ashton to light up the room. Calum could almost see the wheels turning in Ashton’s head, he knew he was brewing an idea up there and Calum could not wait to see what was in store. Ashton always had the best ideas, every day Calum got to spend with him felt like an adventure. Even when it came down to the more mundane activities, if Ashton was by Calum’s side it was something worth remembering.

It did not take long for Ashton to fulfill his idea. He had spread numerous blankets on the floor and scattered pillows all around, brought snacks out and turned his small heater on low. They sat close together on the comfy floor, eating snacks and watching the snowfall, nothing particularly good was on television. So, they filled their time with talking and laughing and eyes gazing out the window to watch Calum’s first blizzard. When talking ran thin and the snow started to calm Calum peered up at Ashton from his position tucked into his side.

Curls fell into Ashton’s face, calmness radiated off of the older man and Calum soaked it up. He remembered the press of Ashton’s lips to his the first time they had kissed, it had only been days ago but felt like lifetimes to Calum. They had not talked about it, they just let their relationship ride out naturally. Ashton would kiss Calum and Calum would kiss Ashton and hands were held and nothing more was said. Because to them, in those moments, nothing else needed to be said.

**< < >>**

Looking back as an adult, Calum realized that communication had never been their strongest point. They talked endlessly, about mostly everything, but the big things went unsaid. Feelings were only communicated through actions and left the other guessing to the meanings. If Calum could go back, he would speak up; say the things that he felt kept his heart beating and twisted his stomach. He wondered if Ashton would too if given the chance. As Calum stood in Ashton’s new home and waited for words to come to him, he pondered how it could be so easy to say nothing when everything was laid on the line before them. Without saying anything, they both knew the reality around them.

“Thanks for coming,” Ashton started and Calum felt the glass walls between them break once more. The first day they met again at the ice rink had shattered ten years of buildup, the next morning was thinner glass that needed to break once more. This time, one crack could have brought a glass house to its breaking point. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

In one brave and brash moment, Calum finally spoke nothing but the truth. “You’re the entire reason I came back.”

“I kind of hoped I was, but then you were so distant and quiet that I thought maybe I was the last thing on your mind.”

Calum bit back the response that dared to build in him. _You’re the only thing on my mind._ And settled for a sigh that would never speak the words he held hostage inside himself. This time though, Calum could see in Ashton’s eyes that he understood the words unspoken, time had given them both the ability to read between the lines. When they were young it was touches and new territories explored that guided them through communication, subtle hints that went unsaid and instinct riding heavily on their shoulders.

**< < >>**

Hands traced softly down Calum’s back, eliciting shivers from his trembling lips. He could feel the heat of Ashton, could taste the other man still on the tip of his tongue. His eyelids were heavy and sleep hung just above him but he held out, wanting this moment to last forever. They had gone so fast yet taken everything so slow. The walk to Ashton’s bedroom felt like a marathon in slow motion. They had fallen into his unmade bed, limbs all wrapped together and lazy kisses trailing along bared skin. Calum felt the wind on his back as he fell for Ashton but he was looking up at the sun so he did not mind the ground.

Calum stretched out, the thin sheet covering his body slipping as his arms rose above his head and brought them back down, a soft moan escaping him. He burrowed into Ashton whose arms were always an open door for him to be welcomed. He settled, desire fulfilled and ridden out like a burning candle. Flickering eyes slipped shut and Calum heard only the steady breathing and rhythmic beat of Ashton and his heart. Calum took one deep breath in, his mind grayed over but slowly spinning back into color. They had made love but the words had not been spoken aloud. Calum buried his warm face into Ashotn’s shoulder.

They fell asleep like that, moonlight absence in the room without windows. But when they woke sunlight poured in through the picture window as Calum sat in the kitchen and watched Ashton busy about, opening cabinets and leaving them that way, all regard for them gone as soon as he got what he wanted from them. A familiar tune was hummed from Ashton, a song of the city lulling Calum who was already at an astronomical amount of peace. _Sweet Caroline_ swept through Calum’s mind as Ashton went on his tip toes to reach the top shelf and Calum grinned, reaching over the top of Ashton to grab what he was so desperately trying to reach and when Calum handed it over to Ashton, Ashton quietly sang “sweet Cal of mine” in tune to his previous humming. Calum nearly went boneless at the words. He pressed his back into the countertop in time to catch his wobbly body as Ashton kept on softly singing as if nothing could faze him.  

It was the first time in the months they’d spent together that Ashton had ever put any sort of claim on their relationship. And sure, it was sang along to the tune of a song and could have meant nothing to anyone else in the world. But, to Calum, it was everything. It was Ashton who sang it. And at that point, Ashton was everything.

**< < >>**

“I don’t know what it was I was expecting by coming back here,” Calum murmured softly, dark brown eyes searching Ashton’s home. They landed on a painting of the sun that sat on the floor in the corner facing outward. Calum felt a tiny pull of a smile, remembering times when it was just the three of them; Calum, Ashton, and the sun ever present overhead.

The painting reminded Calum of when spring time rolled around. Green grass laid under the sun and a path to nowhere zig zagged on into infinity. Calum felt stuck on that path with nowhere left to go. Circles had been run, to Boston, back to home, back to Boston. He wondered, just for a moment, if maybe he would be stuck in a loop forever. Would nothing be resolved by the time he went back home? Would ten more years pass and the pull of the city and Ashton reel him back in? Would Ashton want anything to do with him the next time they crossed paths?

“What do you want to happen?” Ashton questioned. “You must have an answer to that.”

Calum swallowed. There were many things that Calum wanted, he was afraid he would not be able to articulate them all as Ashton eyed him down. It was not threatening. But he had come all this way, and if he did not speak up now, he feared he never would. He feared more than anything that this was the last time Ashton would willingly listen. One word sat on the tip of his tongue, burning away his resistance.

**< < >>**

One night in with Michael and a bottle of vodka and Calum had laid on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, counting the chips in the paint. Michael was beside him with an arm thrown over his face, saying words that Calum was not particularly listening to. Sober thoughts came out in drunk words that night. Calum did not think that either of them would remember by the morning.

“I think someday I might be in love with him,” Calum announced and Michael threw his arm off his face to eye Calum.

 “Someday?”

“Yes. Someday soon.”

“Not yet?”

“Almost.”

**< < >>**

“I want you, I never stopped wanting you.” _I love you._

“Why didn’t you come back?” _Why didn’t you ask me to?_

**< < >>**

“We need you to come home,” Calum’s mother’s voice crackled over the phone. Six words had fallen on Calum like the weight of the entire universe. Planets unexplored bore down on him, oxygen lacked and light faded. His own world crumbled.

All that he could say was, “Alright.”

He dropped the phone, hands shaking with the pain of loss. He was numb in the moment. A knock on the door went unheard and unanswered. 

**< < >>**

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to. So much time had passed and I didn’t hear from you.”

“I tried to write and call. I really did. Every day I picked up the phone and started to dial but something stopped me. Once a week I tried to write but ended up with hundreds of words crossed out and paper seeping with ink. I just didn’t know what to say, or how to help.”

Calum heard the words Ashton did not say.

_You never told me what was wrong._

But Calum could not answer that question without seeing the room spin. Even after all this time there was no simple answer. It was no one thing that went wrong. Everything had fallen apart. He had the urge to move away from this situation. The door beckoned to him as Ashton licked his lips, eyes filled with want.

Calum was not sure if he had flinched, body instinctively moving—flight consuming him—that had clued Ashton in on his thoughts or if he was in his head. Ashton had always been good at reading between the lines, whether he chose to acknowledge it or not. They knew each other, even after time and distance had separated them. Calum knew deep down that Ashton understood him more than Calum understood himself at times.

“Don’t leave again.”

Three words lifted a decade of uncertainty off Calum.

“Alright.”

“I need you.”

Calum nodded.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

And Calum understood Ashton.

“I love you.”


	2. Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read this, I promise it’s important.

Today (September 6, 2018) I found this fic posted on someone else’s wattpad account. The person who stole this word for word is claiming it as theirs. I would like to remind everyone and anyone that plagiarism isn’t cool and if I catch you stealing from me, I WILL report you. And also ask those of you who are just dope readers that if you see someone posting my work elsewhere please please please let me know and or report them. I’m truly gutted over what’s happened today and would like to be aware if it happens again. And for now I’m going to be restricting all of my fics to only registered users. I’m not sure if the thief had an ao3 account or not, but this feels more secure. 

I’m nearly finished the epilogue for this and planned to post it this weekend. If my work isn’t taken down from the wattpad account by then, I won’t be posting. I know it’s kind of stupid, this probably happens a lot. But it really sucks to put your heart into something just to have it stolen. I was so proud of this fic and was truly loving the epilogue until I saw someone stole it and took credit for it. They didn’t even do a lousy “credit to owner/whoever wrote this” spiel. They 100% claimed to have written it. And it breaks my heart. I loved this fic so much and now I’m honestly just mad when I think about it. 

Hopefully the issue gets resolved. Until then, I’m truly sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever do see someone stealing someone else’s work, don’t hesitate to tell the original author. I’m positive they will want to know.   
> For now you can find me on tumblr @ honeysnaps I’ll probably be drowning my anger in yellow and 5sos. So.   
> —El<3


	3. epilogue: the winter of our youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wattpad account that stole this work finally removed it after I left a message on her public message board (after having been ignored in her private messages for hours). She said there was no other reason for stealing it than she thought she wouldn't get caught. She's also since deleted a number of other works (I assume she stole). So if there's anything I've learned in this whole mess, it's this; stand up for yourself, don't keep quiet and let people walk over you and your work. Also that I need to be diligent in making sure no one steals works (mine and others). If you ever see something that looks familiar to you on an account that's unfamiliar, there's probably a bad reason as to why. Do some further investigating. And if the circumstances come back as plagiarism, report it to the original author or site immediately. I promise the author will be eternally grateful.

Calum did not stay in Boston for long.

**< < >>**

One day, ten years ago, a line of footprints in melting snow and a train ride. One day, ten years ago, millions of tears and crossed out words on crumpled up paper. One day, ten years ago, harsh realities and broken promises trailing after Calum. He had ridden the train with his head down, body bent forward in on himself. Everything back home was wrong. He was not sure how to handle the news, so instead of trying to handle it, he resigned in on himself and closed himself off. He bid Ashton goodbye one night, a goodbye much like any other. Only that time, there was no ‘good morning’ or sunrise that gleamed through picture windows and sweet hums to wake to.

Calum’s reality had gone into a landslide back home. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, did. He was needed to help pick up the pieces of a family that could hardly hold onto them anymore, let alone rework them into something it once resembled. The happiness Boston and more specifically Ashton brought Calum during those winter months was long gone as grass grew and the smells of spring coddled the air. Never had a day been so bright and his mood so dark. He craved the feeling of snow on his skin as a gentle and warm breeze passed by. He gripped a rail outside of the train station and waited for the cool burn of frost on his palm but it never came.

He took care of his home life. He helped piece the tragedy back together bit by bit and reconstructed himself into someone new. He did not feel the same after losing so much. But one thing stayed true. He missed Ashton. And yet, he could not find it in the new him to be the first to reach out. They stayed static and silent, neither one being the first to call. Calum realized why Ashton would not call first. Calum had up and left, the only explanation a crumpled piece of paper with crossed out words that did not mean anything. And that piece of paper was in Calum’s bedroom back home, designated to the nightstand drawer.

It would have been too much to explain. Too much to come back from after leaving Ashton cold.

**< < >>**

Ashton did not stay in Boston for long, either.

**< < >>**

The first time Calum left him Ashton had not realized until the next afternoon. There was no morning meeting, no café’s with stale coffee or imagining the lives of artists they never would have known of if not for the museum. He had walked to Calum’s apartment and knocked on the door, expecting a smile and a tug in through the door. Instead there was only silence. And so he knocked again. More silence. Assuming something was wrong Ashton’s heart fell heavy in his chest. The knock on the door became more panicked, pounding fist on the metal and pounding heartbeat as footsteps on the other side made way to open the door. Ashton had not so much as lowered his hand by the time the door opened to Calum’s roommate.

Ashton licked his lips nervously and cleared his throat. He was not sure what it was he needed to ask other than i _s Calum okay,_ but the look on Michael’s face stopped Ashton’s words before they even began.

“He left.”

“For the day?” As Ashton asked he knew the answer.

“He packed all his things last night. He left me a number if you… if you want it…”

Ashton thought about calling. He had gone over every possible scenario for Calum’s departure. And after days had turned to weeks Ashton decided that knowing why he left without so much as a goodbye would be too much to handle. He knew bliss did not exist as easy without Calum around, but if there was ever an argument for ignorance, it was as to why he did not come back.

**< < >>**

 Calum sat in silence on the train for the fourth time in his life. Hours had gone by as he watched out the window, muted colors of a nearby winter turning back to greens as time slowly but surely ticked by. This was the last time he would be leaving Boston, he could feel it in his bones. There would be no more back and forth, years of regret and broken promises lingering over him. He wanted this more than anything. It meant more than anything. His heart could not handle to leave his first love one more time.

Calum rested his head against one of his hands and watched as people thinned out and the train became less crowded as each stop rolled by. He was nearing the last stop, _home_ so close he could feel nerves light up his body. The first time he returned he had been desperately searching for hope. This time, hope sat beside him. It was not long before the train came to a final stop and the few left began to exit the train. Calum followed suit and gathered his few things, other passenger’s murmurs providing a small comfort. The night was dark and starless as he exited the train station.  

A slight breeze picked up as Calum walked toward an awaiting cab service. Usually, Calum would have tugged his jacket round himself a little tighter to ward off the chill, but months in the frigid air up north had left his body begging for cold. The ride back to his house was spent in silence aside from the occasional direction given to the driver. _Down that dirt road. Just around that bend. Past that fence._ Soon enough Calum’s porch light was turning on from the car in the driveway and all looked just as he had left it. Months ago. Years ago. It was all the same.

His house was small and the yard was usually well kept, but in his absence the grass had outgrown its last trim, the flowers under the kitchen window became wild with weeds and overgrowth. Calum felt detached from the small white paneled house, all his heart wanted was skyscrapers and city lights that lit up the horizon and danced on the harbor. He paid the cab driver generously and watched as the headlights pooled out of his long driveway and made way through the thicketed property line.

Calum’s hand unfurled, fingers ghosting up and down his torso, unsure what to do without luggage and regret. To fill the void he felt another hand grab his, calming his uncertainty.

**< < >>**

For years Calum had wrestled with himself over the decision to leave Boston. He knew he was needed at home, he knew his family came first and he needed to do anything he could to be there for them. But there were always overwhelming questions that went unanswered in his mind. Why hadn’t he told Ashton what was happening? How long would the silence between them last? Would Ashton ever understand? Would he ever forgive him?

Many nights Calum found himself outside until the sun started to peak its way through the tree line and all he could picture was sunlight sweeping across ice, blinding and brilliant and all he could feel was Ashton’s hands on his as they moved as one to create a snow angel. Calum had eventually confided in his sister, Mali, about Ashton. And though she urged him to pick up the phone and call he always brushed her off and mumbled that it was too late. Sometimes, when Calum would wallow in his own misery, Mali would call him an idiot and pass him the train itinerary with trips to Boston circled in red ink. Calum would only shake his head and discard his sister’s best efforts.

Calum spent more time with his family in the first year he moved back than he did for most of his life. And that, he will never regret. Tragedy brought them closer. Heartache healed with the love they had for each other. Somehow, even though it seemed nearly impossible at the time of their loss, they came out of it stronger than ever. Yet, when Mali would so much as mention Ashton by name, Calum would go weak in the knees and bite back building emotions. He would retreat to his room and call Michael, because despite his best efforts to forget Ashton and move on, he never could and never did. All he wanted was to know that Ashton was okay. And that was most of what Michael would ever tell him. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. There were days when Calum wondered if Ashton asked about him through Michael, but he never dared to ask.

**< < >>**

“This is nice,” Ashton said into the silent country air.

Calum turned to him, hand enveloped and heart secure. “I was hoping you’d like it here.”

“I like being with you.”

Calum smiled. He was hoping that would be the case.

“No matter where we are,” Ashton finished.  

**< < >>**

Calum and Ashton had one more trip to make. One last road trip into the city, boxes and suitcases filled with Calum’s belongings shoved into the back of a rental car. They played music that reminded them of their first winter together. Bon Jovi one moment, classical museum music the next. They were all over the place. And Calum preferred it that way. At least music wise. For now, he was content to pack Ashton’s things once they got to the city and settle into a home just outside it. When Calum called Michael and Mali with the news he could all but hear the grin in Michael’s voice and heard the unsaid _I told you so_ and _you should have listened to me sooner_ in Mali’s congratulations.

Their house stood tall and empty by the time they had packed all of Ashton’s things and made their way out of the city. They were not far, close enough to make a day trip but far enough to quiet the noise and revel in the comfort of each other. They left mostly everything in boxes the first night, only the bed, sheets and some clothes unpacked. Disbelief coddled Calum as he laid with Ashton that first night. And in the morning when they began to unpack he found an old piece of paper with explanations that did not mean anything anymore.

“What’s that?” Ashton asked.

Calum shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't as long as I wanted it to be but under the circumstances I just didn't have a lot (other than anger and other not so great feelings) in me. It does feel like its time for this fic to be finished though. And I am happy with how it turned out nonetheless. I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm sure I'll be writing more cashton in the future, they're too much of literal boyfriends to resist ;)  
> -El<3


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